Subtextual
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Irene won't stop sending Sherlock text messages. It's driving both him and Molly crazy. A few months into their relationship, Molly makes a plan to beat Adler at her own game! -one shot-


_Here's a naughty little one shot that I've been sitting on for a while now. Huge thanks to Mizjoely for betaing this and to MrsMCrieff for Brit picking and basically 'forcing' me to finish it! You girls rock!_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

"God, Molly that feels…" Sherlock whispered as she sucked his nipple into her mouth whilst grinding her still clothed centre against his erection. "Fuck, I want you!"

Molly's head popped up. "Are you sure? I thought we were 'taking it slow'?"

Five weeks ago, when they had started dating, they had agreed to hold off on the physical aspect of their relationship until they were more comfortable with each other. Perhaps...

"I'm about to come in my pants like a fourteen year old, for God's sake!" He sat up, pushing her to the other end of the sofa and shrugging out of his oxford. "We _were_ taking it slow. Now, unless you have any objections..."

Molly giggled. "None!" she said as she unbuttoned her shirt, Sherlock was busy attacking the button and zip on her jeans as if they'd personally offended him. Once he had her denims and knickers off, he started trailing kisses up her inner thighs. "Sherlock! I'm ready! You don't have too…"

"I need a moment, Molly! Trust me in this. If I enter you right now... "

She smiled, biting her bottom lip.

"Wipe that look off your face, young lady, it's your fault! You and your _lapdance_! I had no idea your hips could do that!" he said, then resumed his mission, burying his face between Molly's thighs.

One earth-shattering orgasm later, he was leant over her, kissing deeply her as he lined himself up. _Oh, God… this is it! Waited so long!_ she thought, when suddenly…

 _Ohhh - ahhhh!_ came from somewhere in the flat. It sounded like an orgasming woman was trapped under the sofa!

Sherlock was undeterred. Either he didn't hear it - which was possible with the way he was moaning into her mouth - or he thought it had, somehow, come from her. He pressed forward, just about to breach Molly's core when it happened again.

 _Ohhh - ahhhh!_

Molly put both hands on Sherlock's shoulders and forcefully pushed him off of her.

" _What_?!" he shouted.

"Where's that sound coming from?!"

"What sound?"

As if on cue, _Ohhh - ahhhh!_

"Oh, bloody fucking hell!" he growled as he dropped to the floor, rummaged around under the sofa and pulled out his suit jacket out. "Goddamnit, Adler!" He fished his mobile out of his pocket and started (angrily) scrolling through his messages, mumbling expletives as he stood.

Molly followed, quickly finding her pants and putting them on. This didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked frantically.

"Getting dressed!"

"Molly, no! You don't understand. I don't even reply, she just keeps messaging me!"

"And how do you explain her personalised alert?" She started buttoning up her shirt.

Sherlock watched her with a sad look on his face, actually reaching out at one point as her breasts disappeared behind the floral material. She just batted his hand away. " _Sherlock_!?"

"I don't know, okay! I've had four different phones since her case and, somehow, she keeps changing it."

Molly folded her arms over her chest.

"Remotely!" he quickly added. "This is a woman who once tried to blackmail the Royal family, Molly. She's capable of anything!" Walking closer, he put his hands on her hips, drawing her to him. "I swear I haven't seen her in years and it's been at least four months since I answered her messages."

The thing this was… she absolutely _did_ believe him. Molly nodded and ran her hands through his hair. "I trust you, Sherlock. I _do_. That doesn't mean that I like her… or _that_ alert. But it's clearly not your fault."

Pulling her into his body, Sherlock whispered, "I love you," against her neck.

"I know you do." She pulled back. "Now, let's take this to your bedroom," she said as she turned and led him toward the hall. "And leave the phone here, Sherlock."

He tossed his mobile over his shoulder.

* * *

They'd been dating for three months when Sherlock asked Molly to move in. Things were going well. Not perfect, of course, but it seemed that Molly and Sherlock worked almost as smoothly domestically as they did in Bart's lab. She took over doing his laundry. ' _Mrs. Hudson is NOT your mother or your maid, Sherlock!_ ' and he really did his best to keep the kitchen in order. Experiments were put away when finished and actual meals prepared in the room.

Toby had never been happier. Most days they kept the door opened so that the cat could travel between their flat and Mrs. Hudson's. He'd gained weight; Molly was convinced that their landlady was feeding him as well. She'd had to start buying diet cat food for the elderly feline.

Molly also took over Sherlock's finances (he hated paying bills) and maintaining his website (shockingly, it was actually getting some traffic).

She was sitting in Sherlock's chair, enjoying a cup of tea after having just finished updating the site with an experiment they had done the night before, when he came into the flat.

"Look at you!" he said, sounding chipper and playful. "I love it when you wear those glasses, Molly, you look like a naughty librarian."

She put the laptop on the table next to her and stood. "I'll thank you to keep your voice down, Mr. Holmes," she said, immediately slipping into the character. "And you are, once again, late in returning my books. You know the punishment for tardy returns."

"Yes, Miss Hooper," he replied, head down though with a slight smirk. "Shall I get your yard stick?"

"Not necessary. I have something else in mind."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Molly pulled Sherlock forward by his hair so that her lips brushed against his. "How about I ride your face until you learn your lesson?"

" _God yes, Molly_ ," he whispered before kissing her passionately. "Keep the glasses?"

"Of course!" she said with a wicked smile as she led him into their bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later she was on the cusp of her second orgasm when…

 _Ohhh - ahhhh…_

"Not now!" Molly shrieked in frustration, ripping her readers off of her face and tossing them to the floor.

" _Mutter ucker_!" Sherlock mumbled from between her thighs.

Gracelessly dismounting, Molly got up and stood by the side of the bed, hands on her hips. "Is she watching us or just messaging you constantly?" This having been maybe the fifth time one of the woman's messages had interrupted an evening of lovemaking, Molly was just about at her wit's end.

Sherlock grabbed his mobile out of his jacket and was furiously thumbing through it. "Neither. I suspect it's just luck."

"You don't believe in luck!" Molly said as she donned a dressing gown.

"I've checked and rechecked the flat for surveillance. She's not watching us!"

Coming to sit next to him, Molly asked, "What's it say this time?" She rarely asked about the content of the text messages, mostly because it didn't matter, but also because it would just add fuel to the fire.

Sherlock sighed. " _You know where to find me when you're finished playing with your little doctor_."

 _Hello fire, here's some fuel!_ "Bitch!" She watched as he deleted the text, turned his mobile off, then put it on the bedside locker.

"I'm so sorry, Molly."

"It's not your fault, Sherlock. I know you've told her to leave you alone." He looked so… adorable sitting there all naked and upset. "Besides, I'm not finished with your punishment yet. Back up on the bed, young man!"

Eyes gleaming, Sherlock got back into position. "Of course, Miss Hooper. Whatever you say!"

* * *

"I would have had it solved by now, John, if you hadn't…"

 _Ohhh - ahhhh…_

Molly looked up from her microscope, annoyed, and took a deep cleansing breath. She was really getting sick of this. _At least we aren't shagging this time._

"What the hell was that?" John asked.

Sherlock, looking at his phone, said, "You know what it was, John. Don't be obtuse!" He shoved his mobile back into his pocket.

"She's _still_ texting you?" the older man asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock replied in a bored tone.

John got up and approached his friend. "Sherlock, you can't keep getting those texts from her." He looked up at Molly, she just rolled her eyes. "How do you think it makes Molly feel?"

"Why don't you ask her, instead of pretending she's not in the room."

"Molly..?"

"John, I'm fine." She walked over to her boyfriend (as she referred to him, even though he disliked the term), and put her hand on his back. "Sherlock's asked her to stop and she refuses. He doesn't encourage it and has been ignoring it for months. It's her problem, not his." Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "I trust him, implicitly." Then she walked to her office.

She was just inside the room, having not shut her door yet when she heard John say, "You are the luckiest bastard on the face of the Earth."

"Don't I know it!" Sherlock replied. "I swear though, I should have just decapitated Irene when I had the chance!"

"What?" John questioned.

"Nevermind. Hand me that slide."

Molly shut her door and picked up her mobile. It was time to initiate her plan. This had to end!

After finding the correct number, she composed a text: **I'm ready** , it simply read.

Five minutes later she got her reply: **He will be contacted soon. Be prepared.**

Molly sent her reply: **Thank you, Anthea**.

She smiled when as she read the last message: **No thanks necessary, Molly. We're more than happy to help rid you both of that nuisance**.

As soon as she read the message, she deleted them all. _Okay, Adler. The game is on!_

* * *

She was nearly asleep three nights later when Sherlock finally made it back home from a case he'd picked up almost immediately after finishing the one he and John had been working on that day in the lab. Hearing him undress, she forced herself to wake up and rolled over. "Did you find her?"

The room was still dark, he hadn't turned on the lights. Molly felt the bed dip and Sherlock's arms snake around her. "Yes. She's fine. She was terrified and will need extensive counseling, but she's physically unharmed."

Molly released a deep breath. A fourteen year old girl had been abducted, the daughter of an MP. She had been held for some kind of political ransom. As if warring political factions meant anything to a frightened teenage girl. She kissed his bare chest. "I love you, Sherlock." He made her so proud.

"God, I'm tired," he said in response.

He must have been; he almost never got into bed with her without having a shower after a case. "Get some rest. I don't go in until noon tomorrow, I'll cook you a nice big breakfast in the morning."

"Mmmm." He kissed her forehead. "Oh, before I forget, Mycroft phoned. We have to go to a charity dinner next weekend."

"Oh?" she replied, as if she didn't already know.

"Yes, it was either that or a musical with my parents. This is the lesser of two evils."

"I'll need to go shopping."

"Anthea will go with you. I'm making _him_ buy you a dress. It's the least he can do."

"Sounds like fun." She ran her hand through his hair. He was already snoring.

* * *

Molly was ready. Anthea had indeed come through, helping her pick out a shockingly sexy gown for the dinner. After shopping, the pair had spent the rest of the day at a salon getting waxed, buffed and styled. Molly felt like a freaking princess! Well, a naughty princess. A naughty, hairless, princess, to be precise. Somehow she'd let _Brunhilde_ talk her into a full Brazilian. Molly was as smooth as a peach from the hips down. Sherlock's face when she stepped out of their bedroom was more than worth it, though. And he hadn't even seen her nethers yet!

Her dress was a striking midnight blue, the bodice lightly covered in Swarovski crystals. It was strapless and perfectly fitted. But the most daring part was the slit: it was so high that she was in danger of showing the whole room her newly shorn lady bits!

Sherlock slipped his hand down her back and over her bottom. "Molly, I didn't want to attend this function to begin with, but you in that dress…" He kissed her neck. "It's taking all my self-control not to drag you out of here and ravish you in the back of a government car!"

Pulling slightly away, she said, "Sherlock, calm down. If you're very good, I'll give you a surprise later. But you have to be…"

"Mr. Holmes," Molly was interrupted by a sultry voice. She was completely prepared for this, but it instantly pissed her off nevertheless. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Miss Adler," Sherlock returned without a hint of emotion. "I don't think you've met my girlfriend. Dr. Molly Hooper, this is Irene Adler."

Molly held out her hand to the gorgeous brunette, smiling as graciously as possible. "It's so lovely to meet you, Miss Adler."

"You as well, Dr. Hooper," she returned as she took the proffered hand, her eyes raking up and down Molly's body. "I have to admit, you are _not_ what I was expecting."

Molly pulled her hand away, wrapping her arm around Sherlock's waist. "Oh? And what were you expecting?"

"Something less… _enticing_ , I suppose." She smiled salaciously then walked closer to the couple her hand landing on Sherlock's chest. He tensed. "It's always nice to see you, Sherlock," she whispered. "I'll be around if you change your mind." And with a wink, she glided away.

He released a long breath once the other woman was out of sight, then turned to Molly. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. She's almost exactly what I expected," Molly said with an internal smile. _Just a little longer, Miss Adler._

* * *

Dinner was bland and the conversation at their table boring but Sherlock kept Molly entertained deducing all the people in their vicinity. After dinner there was dancing. This was her one and only opportunity to pick-pocket Sherlock and implement the final stage of The Plan. Well, that and a bit of courage.

Sherlock was a wonderful dance partner. Molly always felt a bit clumsy compared to his smooth, graceful movements. In this instance, however, it offered her an opportunity to use her gracelessness to her advantage. During a slightly complicated movement, Molly faked a stumble and reached inside of Sherlock's dinner jacket, grabbing his mobile and shoving it quickly into the pocket of her gown. The pocket she insisted be added to said gown.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock!" she said, sounding embarrassed. "I think I need the lady's room. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Would you like another drink?"

That wasn't a bad idea; a little Dutch courage might help with the next step. "That would be nice," she answered.

"Vodka and cranberry?" Sherlock confirmed.

Molly nodded just before making her way to the loo.

Once safely ensconced in a cubical, Molly pulled out his mobile and composed a text. Anthea had given her the floor plans of the hotel the week before and Molly knew exactly where she wanted to stage the final part of her plan.

 **I have changed my mind, Irene. Meet me at the receiving dock in twenty-five minutes. - SH**.

She waited until she received an affirmative before deleting both texts and returning to Sherlock. "Hello, love," she said as she sat back down and picked up her drink. "I'd like to dance again. Maybe this time I can avoid embarrassing you."

Sherlock leant down and captured her lips. "You couldn't embarrass me if you tried, Molly. Finish your drink and we'll get back out there and put these posh bastards to shame."

Five minutes later they were on the dance floor, dancing far too closely for a charity function. Molly ran her hand inside Sherlock's jacket and kissed his neck, hoping to distract him as she slipped his phone back into his inside pocket. "Sherlock?" she whispered into his ear.

"Yes, Molly?"

"I… ah, have something I'd like to show you."

"Really?"

"I can't wait until we get home. I found a place we could be alone when I went to the loo, if you're interested."

He drew back. "Of course I'm interested. Lead the way."

"No. Let's go separately. It'll make it more exciting. There's a receiving dock near the service entrance. Just to the left is a small alcove. Give me a little head start, I'll be there waiting." She kissed his cheek and hurried in the opposite direction of the dock. She was no fool, she knew she'd have to take the long way around to keep Miss Adler from figuring out her plan.

Molly hadn't been waiting more than three minutes when Sherlock show up. "Molly…" he said, his voice low and rough with arousal.

The space was dimly lit, but with just enough light for their purpose. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The whole night had been one long slow burn and she was more than ready for him. The dress, the dancing, the mere idea of what they were about to do… she was on fire.

Throughout the week leading up to the dinner, Molly had felt guilty about keeping secrets from Sherlock and about manipulating him, deceiving him. She especially felt bad about not telling him what was about to happen, but she would come clean after the fact and would take any and all consequences that may arise. Someone had to stop Irene Adler and Molly felt confident that this plan would do just that. The woman seemed to play by her own set of rules and Molly had to sink to her level.

Breaking the kiss, she stepped back and turned around. "Will you help me with this?" she asked. He eagerly obliged, pulling the zip down and pushing the expensive dress off of her hips. She wasn't wearing any undergarments... at all. It was a warm summer evening so she'd forgone stockings and since the dress was fitted she had no need of a bra. Most importantly, she had skipped knickers, they'd just get in the way.

"Molly… you've been… all night you've been dancing around… like _that_?" He sounded stunned.

She turned slowly, watching as his eyes took in her nude form. The moment he found her completely hairless pubis, he sucked in a breath. His stare was nearly tactile. "You like?" she asked sweetly.

"Sweet fuck!" he whispered.

"That's the idea."

His eyes finally moved back to hers. "When..?"

"Today." Molly reached out and groped him through his trousers. "I want you, Sherlock."

"Oh God… ah…" He was looking around frantically. Suddenly he pulled his jacket off and draped it over a crate. "Sit!" he demanded.

Molly was in no mood to deny his request. She perched on the edge of the crate and watched as Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of her. This wasn't part of the plan! They were supposed to fuck up against the wall, not…

Sherlock wasted no time burying his face between her thighs. They needed to be quiet, but Molly couldn't keep herself from moaning out his name as he licked and sucked on her folds masterfully.

Pulling away as she was seconds away from an orgasm, Sherlock said, "Amazing, Molly. Not better… just _different_." Then he went right back for more, moaning into her pussy as he snaked his tongue into her wet channel.

"Fuck!" Molly shouted. A movement to her left caught her eye and she finally remembered The Plan. Irene Adler stood at the entrance of the alcove, watching as Sherlock went down on her on a crate of imported wine. They made eye contact, Alder raising an eyebrow and folding her arms underneath her breasts.

 _God, this is somehow as mortifying as it is hot!_ she thought as she closed her eyes.

Just at that moment, Sherlock sucked Molly's clit into his mouth as he slipped two fingers into her, pressing against her g-spot.

Molly's orgasm overrode her embarrassment as her body convulsed against Sherlock's face. He pulled away, looking up at her with a feral grin.

"That was gorgeous!" he said as he stood. Holding out his hand, he helped her up. "Want to fuck you now!" He pressed her up against the cold wall next to the crate.

Molly's overheated body shuddered at the change of temperature, but she barely had time to register as Sherlock was picking her up, pressing the tip of his cock against her entrance. She hadn't even noticed him unzipping his trousers! With a loud sigh, Sherlock eased Molly down onto his cock. She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips and held onto his shoulders as tight as she could.

"You feel so good. So slick and… _fuck_!" Sherlock panted into Molly's neck. He drove up into her over and over as she tossed her head back against the wall.

"Harder, Sherlock! Make me come!" Molly cried out, momentarily forgetting about the purpose of their display.

"God, I love your pussy!" Sherlock said, slowing down instead of speeding up like she'd asked. "It's so tight and wet. You were made for me, Molly! Made for my cock!" He made his point by thrusting up hard and twisting his hips.

"Harder!" she demanded again, opening her eyes and looking into his.

"You going to come for me, my love?"

There was a sudden sweetness and sincerity to his voice. Molly's eyes filled with tears as she remembered that they weren't alone. This wasn't something to be used to fend off intruding dominatrixes. They loved each other and… and… "Sherlock…" She had to tell him!

His speed increased. "I'm close, Molly. Come on my cock!" he grunted as he slipped his hand between them and thumbed her clit.

Biology overroad emotions as Molly started to orgasm. "Oh, God, Sherrrr…"

" _Fuck_!" Sherlock cried out as she felt him start to come. "Love you! Love you so much!"

Molly opened her eyes just in time to see the retreating form of Irene Adler leaving the alcove. As she watched, the dam broke. Tears poured down her face as she clutched to Sherlock's shoulders.

"Hey…" he tried to pull back, but Molly held fast. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't speak, just continued to sob into his tux shirt.

"Is this because _that_ woman was watching?"

Molly drew back, dumbstruck.

"I thought this was what you wanted," he said as he stroked her wet cheeks.

"You… you knew?"

"Of course I did, Molly. Look who you're talking to." He smirked.

"But… I… but... " Her shoulders dropped. " _How_?"

Sherlock picked up Molly's dress and handed it to her, then pulled out a linen handkerchief and dried her eyes. Once her face was clean, he tucked in his shirt and started to put himself back together as he explained. "I knew the texts were bothering you. Of course they were, they were making me crazy. I also knew that you weren't so much jealous as annoyed. Obviously you worked out a plan to put an end to it. When Mycroft phoned me about this dinner I looked into it and found out that Adler was going to be here. But it was _your_ plan, Molly, I had no desire to disturb it." He picked up his jacket and put it back on. "It was an excellent plan, love. Though we need to work on your pick-pocketing skills," he added with a wink.

By this point, Molly had her dress back on. "Can you zip me up?"

"As much as I hate to, yes."

"So, you're not mad?" she asked as he pulled up the zip.

He was still behind her, holding firmly onto her hips. "Mad that my beautiful girlfriend went to all this trouble - and pain if I understand the correctly when it comes to waxing - to make it clear to a pushy dominatrix that I am not in any way available?" He kissed her shoulder, neck and cheek. "No, Molly, I'm not mad. Besides, it was really hot!" Turning her around he kissed her sweetly. "Now, shall we go home? I'd like to get a better look at you. I'm afraid you've found a kink I didn't know I had."

* * *

Three hours later the couple lay in bed nearly asleep. Sherlock had made good on his promise of 'getting a better look'. And after two more rounds of earth-shattering sex, Molly was completely exhausted. She was just drifting off when she heard it…

 _Ohhh - ahhhh…_

"Are you kidding me!" Molly mumbled, sitting up and lunging over Sherlock to get his mobile. But upon opening it she found no new messages. "What the..?"

 _Ohhh - ahhhh…_

Molly dropped his phone and blindly reached for hers. Two new texts were waiting for her.

 **Well played, Dr. Hooper. - Irene**

 **Like I always say: Know when you've been beaten. - Irene**

Just as she was about to put it back on her bedside table, the alert sounded again. This time, Sherlock sat up, snatching it out of her hands.

"She's un-fucking-believable!" he growled as he read.

"What?"

"Look!" He shoved the device toward Molly.

She looked at the screen, completely shocked. It read: **That was quite a show you put on, Doctor. If Mr. Holmes ever fails to perform… well, you have my number. We should have dinner. - Irene**

* * *

 _Hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you thought! ~Lil~_


End file.
